


The Ghost of You Clings

by emma98



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, HYDRA is a bag of dicks, Inspired by Music, Sad Backstory, ShieldShock - Freeform, buckynat - Freeform, playing fast and loose with MCU and comic canon and head canon, thank you fic for 1 million words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-27 09:11:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13245084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emma98/pseuds/emma98
Summary: When the dust settles after defeating Thanos, Bucky Barnes figures that he is as close to whole and healed as he ever will be.  But the memory of one person has not come back to him yet.  And it just might be the most important memories that seem to be impossibly out of his reach.As his best friend prepares to marry, Bucky finds himself suffering from painful headaches associated with his recovered memories, all thanks to dance lessons with the mysterious Natasha Romanoff.





	The Ghost of You Clings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [purplefangirlmommy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplefangirlmommy/gifts).



> So, this is a give away fic for my 1,000,000 words published celebration for fasole-dulce. They asked for  
> " Post civil war, Bucky is out of cryo but doesn’t remember his history with Natasha (she does remember) She offers to teach him some modern dances one day and the memories come back to him while they’re dancing."  
> And of course, it's very nice that they don't mind the shieldshock here either.
> 
> The Story title comes from Ella Fitzgerald's "These Foolish Things". 
> 
> We are set after Infinity War "Optimistic Edition", where no one dies, everyone lives and they all come out happier with everything and everyone (You know, because I can pre-emptively dream). This story is very, very inspired by music, so much so, that I put links to songs in the scene breaks, if you are interested. I'll have a complete listing at the end.

* * *

 

**[Present Day](https://youtu.be/ViwtNLUqkMY)**

 

"Congratulations, kid."

 

"Thanks, Sarge!" Darcy Lewis shouted over the party music blaring from the Stark-enhanced speakers.  The future bride of Steve Rogers beamed pure, unadulterated happiness back at James Buchanan Barnes, and her fiancé standing tall next to her seemed to melt into a puddle of gloop, love and mush at the sight of her happiness.  Steve had his arm wrapped tight around the dame that had just said ' _yes_ ' to his earnest proposal of marriage just half an hour ago.  

 

Bucky had practiced with Steve on the right words to use to propose to the little lady that had stolen his heart years ago on a chance trip to New York City in between bouts of looking for Bucky himself after the fall of SHIELD.  It had been fate that had Darcy and Steve's paths crossing again after the disaster of the Sokovia Accords, and they spent a year together on the road while Bucky slept peacefully in Wakanda.  

 

And now here they were.  Bucky was as whole and healed as he was ever going to get.  Steve was head over heels and itching to settle down with the dame of his dreams.  And they were finally at a place of peace.  No wars.  No aliens.  No invasions.  The Asgardian fella had promised that they would be safe for a short while (at least two centuries, but who was counting?), so it seemed to be an ideal time to regroup, rebuild, and live life.

 

The party had been for Steve's 102nd and also 33rd birthday.  Darcy had popped out of a cake for him, dressed as a star spangled gal with a plan.  Steve had dropped to BOTH knees after helping her out of it, and he'd mostly thrown all the words Bucky had rehearsed with him out the window, and instead said whatever was on the tip of his tongue.

 

It had been pretty good, and Darcy had tackled him right into the gigantic cake.  

 

Bucky was pleased as punch for his best pal.  If any one person on the planet deserved happiness, then it was certainly Steve Rogers.  Second to that was Darcy Lewis, who was a damned peach that had spent the last alien invasion protecting vulnerable people with nothing but a can-do attitude and some kind of electrical gun that some Valkyrie lady had given her.

 

"Now, what on Earth am I going to get you as an engagement gift?" Bucky wondered.  "Or a bridal shower or a wedding gift?  Do people still give fancy china plates?"

 

"Oh God, he's going to do his cute little old geezer act," Sam huffed out an annoyed breath as he strode forward to the newly engaged couple with his own date.

 

Misty Knight exchanged a fist bump of her prosthetic with Bucky's own and Sam sucked at his teeth in annoyance.  He wrapped a proprietary arm around an unimpressed Misty's shoulders and glared at Bucky.

 

"I doubt they want real gifts," Misty answered Bucky, giving a smile to Darcy.  "But I know a bunch of charities that might want donations made in their name."

 

"I'll email you for a good list," Darcy promised.  

 

"Well as best man, I've gotta get you something nice," Bucky said to Darcy.

 

"Excuse you, Ye Olde Frosty Balls?" Sam scoffed.

 

Steve held up the hand that was currently not wrapped around Darcy in a gesture meant to stop his bickering best friends.  It didn't work as they glared (mostly) playfully at each other.  

 

"We're not having a normal wedding party.  It's more of a---best group situation," Steve said delicately.  "You're both my best men.  And Thor and Jane are Darcy's best---Asgardian and Astrophysicist."

 

"And Natasha is just the best," Darcy nodded in agreement, leaning her head against Steve as she beamed one million watt contentment out of every pore in her body.  "For both me and Steve."

 

"Weird," Sam rolled his eyes, but still threw a wink at Darcy.

 

"And the only request that I have, is all of us have an absolute blast at the reception," Darcy insisted.  "I'm talking about great food, great drinks and great dancing all night."

 

Bucky perked up at that.  He could dance.

 

"Yeah, I can see us doing a chicken dance, a little robot, some electric slide, maybe even a choreographed bit of somethin' somethin'," Sam nodded in eager agreement.  "Wait till you see my Macarena."

 

Bucky furrowed his brow at that.  He looked to Steve, who merely shrugged, not really understanding those dance names either.  Foxtrot, waltzes, lindy hops, charlestons, he could do all of those.  

 

What in the hell was an electric slide?  Was it a Darcy specific dance since she kind of seemed to be good with electricity?  Bucky took a deep inhale and the hint of lemon mixed with jasmine danced across his sense of smell, making his breath hitch a little at the end of an exhale.  He turned to his right and saw Natasha Romanoff standing right there, smiling softly at the sight of Darcy and Steve.

 

Natasha was an oddity to Bucky.  He knew that he had had run ins with the woman while he was still stuck in the prison of the Winter Soldier conditioning.  On multiple occasions.  And she had still survived, which had not happened very often in seventy years.  She'd not only survived, but she'd held her own against him.  Matching him not in strength, but in strategy and quick thinking and ingenuity in fighting and parrying and even retreat.

 

Steve was asking Darcy questions about the dancing that Bucky should be paying attention to, but the smell of sweet lemon and jasmine was clouding his thoughts and he felt like he was on the verge of a headache, which never ended well for him, usually knocking him out of commission for at least a day.  Princess Shuri had insisted this was normal due to his healing neural pathways and the medication that the Wakandan scientists had invented to heal fragments of memory.

 

He didn't know why the perfume Natasha Romanoff wore was doing such a thing.  She turned to him and the warm smile she had been aiming at Darcy faltered for just a moment before she offered quietly,

 

"I can help you with the more modern dances, and I won't tell Wilson about it at all."

 

Bucky ignored the beginning of pain in his head and allowed a slow, genuine smirk curve his lips upwards.

 

"That'd be aces, Red.  Thanks."

 

* * *

 

** [Undisclosed location, Russia, 1953](https://youtu.be/5mmq3nLQ4yg)** 

 

Natalia knew she was being watched.  She was always being watched.  She HAD always been watched, ever since she entered the Red Room, and probably even before that.  But this time, it was not a handler, a so-called caretaker or even a normal instructor.  The gaze on her as she tried to work herself through the steps to the slow fox-trot with nothing more than a manual was different than the eyes she had grown accustomed to watching her every breath and movement.

 

It was the new instructor.  He had arrived, escorted by a multitude of armed guards, on loan from some other organization that wanted to work in concert with the Russians.  Natasha knew that they did not want to aide in the fight for the glory of her country.  But she was not above turning away much needed help, not with the capitalist pigs of America threatening their security with every passing minute.

 

But the instructor WAS American.  Natalia could tell just by the way his mouth formed the Russian words that were clearly foreign to him.  He was a silent, deadly thing, and not one of the Widows in the Red Room had so far been able to disarm him.  She could learn a lot from him.

 

But at the moment, what twenty-two year old Natalia wanted more than anything, was to learn the stupid, idiotic slow fox-trot so that she could prove herself worthy of the mission to Paris, where she would find a way to milk the secrets out of one of the American officials that had made a contract with Howard Stark to help develop deadly weapons.  Unfortunately, Natalia had never been a great book learner.  She learnt through observation, and by doing.  She had discovered a formidable skill with kendo, just by watching a visiting group of rogue warriors from Japan and then picking up a broom stick and mimicking what she had observed.  Looking down at a word by word description of a dance did nothing for her.

 

"Music is all wrong."

 

The English words had Natalia looking up from her place at the record player, where she had a stack of her prized possessions, namely records that she had been allowed to collect since she had been a child.  

 

The new instructor melted out of the shadows and his nose wrinkled at the sound of the classic waltz.  Steely blue-gray eyes met wide and wary green eyes and neither of them blinked for a few extended moments.  Eventually the new instructor stepped forward closer, moving like liquid mercury despite the weapons and the leather tactical uniform he wore.  He stood next to her and looked down at her songs, and Natasha doubted such a man would be able to discern what was the right song.

 

He smelled of metal and blood and gunpowder.

 

He held up one record, her newest find.  "La Vie En Rose", sung in English by Bing Crosby.  He handled the record with care and easily worked the old fashioned player, glaring distastefully at the waltz record before placing it down.  He took a few steps away from the player and held out his arms, giving her a slow nod.

 

"C'mon Red.  I'll teach you."

 

* * *

 

**Present day**

 

"People still do the dances I know, though.  I saw it. Darcy wanted to watch Dancing With The Stars to see your twin cousin Storm do the jitterbug," Bucky complained to Steve as they made their way to the gym.  They had received anonymous encrypted text messages half an hour ago telling them to get to the designated practice space and be ready and willing to move about.  

 

Steve had pleaded with Natasha that he and Bucky would have to hide this from Sam and Darcy.  From Sam because Bucky didn't really feel like being made fun of for something he was actually quite good at.  He'd always excelled at dancing.  And Steve wanted to surprise his bride-to-be with all the dancing her heart could desire.  Whether that be good old fashioned swing dancing, or the hokey pokey or what Sam had described as krumping, well, he would learn it.

 

The room was even password protected, and for some reason, Bucky had known that the sequence of numbers corresponded with an old Soviet code and would spell out La Vie en Rose.  He didn't know why it had popped into his head, but here he was, typing in the words via the code and opening the door to the private gym at the Avenger's facility.  

 

Steve was immediately tackled to the ground by his adorable bride-to-be.

 

"Darcy," Bucky tipped an imaginary hat to the woman currently covering Steve's faces with kisses.  "Pleasure to see you here, kid."

 

"It was supposed to be a surprise, sweetheart," Steve WHINED, but was still grinning at her and giving her kisses wherever he could.

 

Bucky left Darcy and Steve to wrestle their way into the room.  He'd only known the young woman for a little less than a year, but this was a normal occurrence.  Affection was Darcy's most aggressive weapon in her arsenal, honestly.  He half believed she could cuddle the most nasty hydra bastard to death if given the opportunity.  Natasha was smiling softly at the pair wrestling their way into the private gym, which looked very much like a dance studio.  She was standing by the record player, a big cabinet shaped thing that looked about as old as Bucky himself.  

 

He walked towards both Natasha and the record player with a look of astonishment and wonder on his face.  He reached for the stack of records and looked through them, squinting at some, but his eyes lighting up in recognition at others.  Natasha watched him the whole time discerningly, not even bothering to hide it a bit.

 

"Thought you'd have an ipod," Bucky marveled, looking at some of the records from the 70's, 80's and 90's, not recognizing one of them.  He stopped at one, called _Thriller_ and marveled at the kitchy zombie on the cover.  "Little Darcy is very keen on her ipod."

 

"Hey, I like my antiques just fine!" Darcy sang out from where she was sitting pretty as she pleased on top of a sprawled out Steve's stomach.  She glimpsed the record in Bucky's hands and clapped her hands enthusiastically.  "Yes, let's learn the thriller dance!  It's SO fun.  Sam will shit his pants when you break that out."

 

"Thriller," Bucky repeated.  He looked up at an assessing Natasha and automatically threw her a wink.  He could feel the headache that had just begun to fade flare up again, but he steadfastly ignored it, not willing to miss a moment of this.  "Alright, Red.  Whaddya got? How do we do this Thriller dance?"

 

* * *

 

**[Austria, 1955](https://youtu.be/UFdfzNMV52Q) **

 

At twenty-five years of age, Natalia Romanova had seen and done more than most men three times her age.  On a snowy New Year's Eve in Austria, she had just earned another feather in her cap.  She just had to make it out alive with the microfilm she had obtained of the United States Secretary of State's personal briefing files.  

 

Nuclear weapon stockpile locations.  Emergency protocols.  A list of countries that were flagged for potential communist activities...countries that could be an ally to her own country.  She had it all.  

 

She just needed to get out alive now.

 

Getting in had been ridiculously easy.  The junior staffers under the Secretary of State's employ were notorious for going to local drinking establishments and 'taking a load off’ as only an American could.  All it took was an ample bosom and a little blush and shock when they grabbed at her, and suddenly she was in the lap of a man who had access to the Secretary of State's personal hotel accommodations.

 

She'd feigned drunk easily and allowed the American pig to carry her over his shoulder back to the hotel.  After that, it had been remarkably easy.  But now, it was early in the morning, and security had doubled.  The man she had knocked out with a slip of poison in his tumbler of whiskey was no doubt rising and heading to work, in the very hallways that she was trying to sneak out of.  

 

If she could complete this mission, she would be proven worthy of an enhancement.  It was all any of the other agents could speak of.  There was a rumor that the enhancements could either kill you on the spot, or give you heightened senses.  Some even spoke of a man that had been gifted with eternal life.

 

Natalia knew that the man had not been given eternal life.  He had just been gifted with a metabolism that ran nearly three times faster than a normal human.  His aging was slowed to a crawl, but he still did age.  She knew because eight months ago, before he had been taken from the Red Room for undisclosed missions, she had discovered a slight crinkle at the corner of his eye that had not been there when she had first met him in 1953.  It was miniscule, but she saw it, while he hovered above her, the both of them gasping for air as they came down from their own shattering climaxes.  

 

He'd put his hand on her cheek and whispered his love for her before his eyes crinkled and she'd never felt so warm in all of her life.

 

If she could get to the end of the hallway, she could get to the closet where she had stashed a spare maid's uniform.  Then there was the matter of waiting out her extraction, which would no doubt be delayed thanks to the incoming blizzard.  She could do it.  She would do it.  She had to do it.

 

"You there!  Do you have clearance to be here?" a voice called out from the other end of the hall.  

 

Natasha stopped in her tracks and took a deep, stabilizing breath, all of her muscles tense and waiting for the attack.  She could fight her way out of it if she had to.  She was unarmed.  She was dressed in a ridiculous dress that was far too tight in the bust and far too voluminous in the skirts, but she could do it.  She went to turn to face the onslaught, when the sound of music playing filled the hall, and then a cold, unyielding hand gripped her wrist and yanked her backwards.

 

"Sorry 'bout that, Richardson.  Little lady got lost tryin' to find the ice machine," the accent was heavy and thick.  

 

"Keep your spoils of war in your room, Smithie," Richardson chortled.

 

The music was playing in the room, Ella Fitzgerald's voice filling the room with warmth and longing and thoughts of New Year's Eve.  Music was her comfort, and Ella Fitzgerald had been a great supplier of the comfort for years now.  James had brought a record back one day back in the Red Room and taught her a simple, close dance, where he held her indecently tight to his body and they swayed.  It had been the first time he had told her he loved her, whispering the English words in her ear.

 

Ella sang on about New Year's Eve while Natasha stood in the darkened bedroom, her body still tensed and coiled, ready for a fight as she stared at the back of the American who had just saved her from one hell of a melee.  His hair was dark and slicked back, his shoulders broad underneath the white button down shirt that all the security members wore, along with regulation black slacks that seemed a little too tight to be decent by American standards.  He shut the door before turning and she felt like she had been punched in the gut at the crinkle at the corners of pale blue eyes, indicating a smile that was melting from his face, only seriousness remaining.

 

"James," Natalia whispered.

 

"You remember me?" James furrowed his brow slightly, but his face was angry.  

 

"Of course I remember you," Natalia bit back.  

 

They'd been lovers.  They'd been in love.  She was sure of it.  She had not warranted recalibration in the past few months.  She had not been recalibrated since her graduation ceremony.  She would know and remember the man who she had risked her life for, just to spend time with him.  They had carried on their romance even after the handlers had told the both of them that it was not decent or acceptable.

 

"Yeah, you remember me even after what you did with that slob?" James took a step towards her, looking angry and menacing.

 

Natalia took a step towards him in answer.

 

"Who?" she shook her head in confusion.

 

"Parker, the man who took you back to his room, you know he's disgusting right?" James demanded, the accent thick as his voice caught in a growl.

 

"I was doing a job," Natalia revealed.  "What are you doing here, James?"

 

"I am doing a job.   Doing a job, that doesn't require seducing a moron that barely has the brain power required to light a match," James spat out.

 

"I did nothing with him, aside from feed him tainted whiskey that put him to sleep," she spat back, equally as angry as his words.  She muttered a few curse words in Russian before switching back to English.  "You were the one who told me that---you taught me the best ways to entice men to get what I want!"

 

"Yeah, but still I don't---I didn't want him touching you!" James answered.  He ran his hands through his hair and sighed.  A little anger leaked out of his posture and he asked in a quiet voice," What did you get?""

 

"If you don't know, then I would assume you're not in on the mission," Natalia answered petulantly.

 

"Hydra and the Red Room don't always collaborate, Red," James smiled sadly at her.  "If they did, I'd never have you more than five feet away from me."

 

He walked closer to her then, and the glove that hid the metal of his hand did nothing to hide the cool, hard strength of the unyielding, unnatural arm.  It was a comfort to Natalia.  She allowed herself one second of solace before scowling at him.  

 

"Aww, Red, don't be sore," James begged.  "I got a hot head, it don't happen---well it don't happen ever anymore.  You just--you just bring out a different side of me."

 

Natalia already knew that.  He'd say the most surprising things in the private moments they had shared over the course of a year and a half.  He sounded like the men in the movies that one of the handlers secretly smuggled in and watched.  His words belonged in the mouth of a dapper leading man from a movie from Hollywood on most days.  But it was always just around her, and when pressed, he couldn't give her an answer of where the words came from.  

 

He didn't remember.  Natalia understood, because there were days she didn't recall things that must have happened in her life.  

 

"I am a Black Widow of the Red Room," Natalia looked up at him with an unwavering green gaze.  

 

"The best Black Widow of the Red Room from what I hear," James winked at her.

 

"I will do what is necessary to complete a mission, to do my job, James," Natalia reminded him.  "You taught me, said it would save my life one day."

 

"I know," came the almost petulant response.  "Can't stand to think of another man touching you, Red.  You're mine."

 

Natalia fought back a reflexive smile.  Instead she leaned into the firm touch of his left hand and allowed her body to melt against his just a fraction.  She could feel his pulse begin to pound in response.  

 

"Natalia is yours.  Red is yours," she promised.  "But the Black Widow is not. No matter how well you helped in making her."

 

"Alright.  I know," James promised.  "I know.  You gotta do what you have to---but I'm gonna kill Parker later anyway, on principle."

 

"You're an idiot," Natalia accused.

 

"Your idiot," James bent forward and kissed her gently.  He groaned appreciatively, "Still got the sweetest lips this side of the Hudson."

 

"Do you have an extraction plan?" she asked practically.  "Or are you meant to pose as American security forever now?"

 

"I'm meant to blow this place up," James smirked down at her, licking his lips as his eyes traced the line of her lips.  "Don't worry your pretty little head about it, Natalia.  I've got a full wet bar in here, and a box of fancy cakes from the finest baker in all of Austria.  We'll be good for a day or two at least."

 

"My idiot," Natalia sighed, although the prospect of warmth, safety and James for two days seemed like heaven on Earth.

 

"Give us a kiss, Red," James coaxed.  "I've been missing you for some time now."

 

* * *

 

 

**[Present Day](https://youtu.be/mEu8DrO9PbY)**

 

"Where's Darcy?"  Bucky asked as soon as he came into the dance room, seeing that Natasha was standing next to a record player, but Steve was not tackled to the ground, nor did he have Darcy tucked under his arm.  Instead, he had a bot from Stark's lab.  Bucky didn't remember the name, he'd only met the charming little robots once, and Stark had banned him from the lab after that when Dum-E had spent an excessive amount of time petting at his left arm.  

 

Whichever bot it was, it was wearing a tutu and was leaning against Steve as if he was their dance partner.

 

"She's been banned," Natasha answered.

 

Bucky frowned at that.  He was very fond of Steve's dame.  She was like a sister to him already, really.  Whenever Steve was called out for some sort of Avenger crisis, Darcy was the person that Bucky shadowed around all day.  Half of his reasoning lay with trying to protect her from any number of threats (he'd actually stopped two very unimpressive kidnappings).  The other half was he just genuinely enjoyed her company.  She spent most of her time taking care of others, her job description in the system was literally ' _Goddess of the Hearth_ ', and had been bestowed upon her by Thor and Loki themselves.  The rest of her time was spent finding mischief, which Bucky could always appreciate.

 

Natasha turned from Bucky and put on a record, something soulful and deep and rich.  

 

Bucky furrowed his brow.  He recognized the song and he was having trouble figuring out how.  It was either from the time spent in Hydra's service, or it had been his time in the present, where Darcy would shove one earpiece in his ear and one earpiece in Steve's ear and make them listen to whatever was tickling her fancy at the moment.  

 

"Dirty dancing!" Steve snapped his fingers and pointed at the record player excitedly.  A look of understanding crossed his face then and he nodded. "OH!"

 

"That's why she's been banned," Natasha answered.  "You can learn with Dum-E."

 

Natasha walked towards Bucky whose head was nodding along with the beat of Solomon Burke's "Cry to Me" appreciatively.  Before he knew it, she had placed her hands on his waist and her arms on his shoulders and they were standing far closer together than was generally considered as polite and platonic.

 

Sense memory took over, and it was a lot more overwhelming than the original confusion about the music.  Natasha moved her hips and Bucky followed effortlessly, dancing what seemed like established and well-choreographed, incredibly sensual dancing.  At one point Bucky bent his knee just so that Natasha straddled his thigh, moving rhythmically as his hands drifted to her hips and helped her along in her wicked movement.

 

The song ended far too soon, and Bucky bent his head forward for a kiss, feeling like it was part of a muscle memory.  Natasha looked up at him with anticipation, her mouth parting ever so slightly and exhaling a shaking breath.  She saw the line between his eyebrows form and deepen with his sudden pain and frustration and he took a step away from her, all the warmth vanishing in a second from Natasha's entire body.

 

"I---I'm not feeling so hot, Red.  Gonna go and grab a painkiller or ten from Doc Cho," Bucky mumbled, stumbling backwards. He turned to see Steve with his hand on Dum-E's approximate waist, but his eyes had been on Bucky and Natasha, a look of suspicion and astonishment on his face.  "See you, Stevie."

 

"See you," Steve waved him off.  He waited until the door closed before disentangling himself from the robot dance partner and taking quick steps towards Natasha.

 

He'd never seen her in such a state before.  Her trembling hand went to her mouth as her eyes filled with quick tears.  Steve immediately went for a hug, swift and fierce, holding Natasha to him as she viscerally reacted, trying to shut down the moment of weakness.  

 

"Hey, hey," Steve whispered.  "What aren't you telling me, Nat?"

 

"Nothing, there's nothing," Natasha said quickly, pulling out of Steve's hug.  She shook her head and looked up at him as she got it all under control very quickly.  "It's nothing.  Because he doesn't remember."

 

"What?" Steve prodded.  "Nat, tell me so that I can help you.  Please."

 

"It's nothing," Natasha answered.  "Just like  I wanted it to be.  He forgot and he'll never remember."

 

* * *

 

**[1956, Hong Kong](https://youtu.be/eFFgbc5Vcbw)  **

 

"Come along, Sir."

 

Natalia adjusted her overly large sunglasses on her eyes before flicking the long black wig she wore over her shoulder.  She could almost fit in amongst the chaos.  She was small in stature, unlike the other graduates of the Red Room.  With the wig and her eyes covered, she could blend in easily.  If only she were running in the same direction as everyone else.

 

But no, she was running into the violence, escorting some native son of China that the Soviets had deemed necessary to protect.  Natalia was a Black Widow of the Red Room and she would do what she was told, but this seemed to be a more of a Black Angel of the White Room situation.  But those capable women were using their lives to defend important people in Russia, so Natalia would have to fill in.

 

The violence was everywhere, rioting and senseless mayhem was spilling into the streets of Hong Kong.  She walked into the heart of it, her hand on the shoulder of the panicked and nervous dignitary she would usher back to the handlers.  She blended well enough that they were only slightly jostled by the panicked crowds heading away from the violence.

 

Natalia knew that there was a layer of security for her.  Far above the ground, rushing across ramshackle rooftops, a sniper's rifle strapped to his back and armed to the teeth was her James.  After their extraction a year ago from Austria, the connection between Russia and Hydra grew, and James spent most of his time training Red Room recruits and in sneaking off with his Natalia whenever they could.

 

And they could, quite often.  The superiors were impressed with how well they worked together in Austria.  They'd gone on a dozen missions in the last year.  Natalia had seen more of the world in twelve months than she had in her entire life.  And it was a good thing too, because she knew that soon she would receive the ultimate enhancement that any Black Widow could be gifted.

 

It could kill her or put her out of commission for months.  

 

So she was happy to make as many good memories with the Winter Soldier that protected her and her charge from above.  

 

They approached the large night club where the noise was coming from.  It was usually a glittering and gaudy symbol of the elite, where American culture was held up on a pedestal, to be celebrated and emulated.  The nightclub also housed a bunker underneath where the man she protected would be safe until the riots died down.  

 

She heard the snap of the rifle before the bullet shot past her head, the dispelled air making a strand of the black hair on her wig go out of place before landing in the sternum of a man that was ten feet away from her, and who had been advancing upon her with a wicked knife drawn.  She turned and pushed the man she was tasked with protecting into a corner and stood in front of him in a defensive stance as more attackers came out of the woodwork.

 

She was going to feel this in the morning.  In order to protect the dignitary, she would be giving up a tactical advantage, but she would do it, because that was the mission.  With a combined, simultaneous warrior's cry, five men advanced upon her, each armed with something sharp, wicked and deadly.  She defended herself well, only earning one slash against her upper arm, her light blue blouse ripping and coating rapidly with dark red.

 

He didn't make a sound when his feet hit the ground, even though she knew that he had jumped from at least two stories up.  He stood and raised a handgun, quickly dispatching three more men who would have tried to hurt her.

 

"You alright?" he demanded as they both fought off far too many attackers, all the while the dignitary wept in the corner in his safety and comfort.

 

"You didn't need to come down," Natalia insisted.  "I would have been fine."

 

"Yeah, sure, you look it, Red," his eyes glared at her red, wet sleeve.  If his muzzle hadn't covered his mouth, Natalia knew he would be scowling.

 

He absolutely hated to see her in pain.  Which was difficult, as her job practically called for it on a daily basis.  

 

"Come on, James, the quicker we finish, the quicker we can get out of here," Natalia said with brightness that didn't belong in what was essentially a war zone as they worked back to back in their deadly combat.

 

His concern ebbed and she knew he was smirking now under the muzzle at the appearance of those adorable crinkles at the corners of his eyes.  

 

"I really hope these damned rioters don't loot that noodle shop.  I really wanted some more of those."

 

* * *

 

**Present Day**

 

One day in October, six whole months before the wedding was supposed to take place, Darcy Lewis went into high gear.  Suddenly everything had to be planned right away, there was no time to waste, and the entire list had to be checked off immediately.  Bucky had played the part of security as well as something of a wedding consultant.  In the last week since his last modern dancing lesson with Natasha, he'd had no time to sulk about his painful headaches and the memories that seemed impossibly out of reach.  

 

And Natasha had been right there, as placid and unflappable as she had ever been.  She didn't give him a clue or a hint to help him out.  And Steve had even taken to acting differently.  Always looking to Natasha after Bucky spoke with intense scrutiny.  And when Natasha spoke, Steve would watch Bucky with discernment that bordered on creepiness.

 

It was all very mysterious, and if his head weren't constantly threatening to overwhelm him with bone cracking pain, then he might have been tempted to try and solve it.

 

"Cake, cake, cake," Darcy chanted as the baker put a tray of cake samples in front of the quartet.  

 

"Kid, we all know you're going to get the lemon.  You eat sugared lemons for fun," Bucky accused.

 

"Candied. Lemons.  And lemon squares, that's not like, taking a slice of lemon, dipping it in sugar and putting it in my mouth," Darcy argued, before going for the little sample of lemon cake and slamming the whole thing in her mouth.  She made a happy groaning sound but then disappointment quickly came over her pretty features as she searched the sample tray for more lemon.  Seeing as it was only supposed to provide a taste of the twenty different flavors and fillings that the baker was offering, the other nineteen little bites of cake were not lemon.

 

"Could you bring the eight inch lemon in the case?" Natasha asked with a polite smile to the baker.

 

"Love you, Nat," Darcy said around a mouthful of cake.  She snuggled into her friend, cuddling her as aggressively as she dared in a public place.  

 

"Hmmm," Natasha hummed, running her hands over Darcy’s dark brown curls with obvious and blatant affection.  

 

"Okay, so definitely we're getting the lemon as the big layer, right, sweetheart?" Steve looked to his little bride for her happy and eager nod.  "But we oughta have different flavors, just in case anyone wants you know, vanilla."

 

"Honestly pal, you're such a bore," Bucky accused before going forward with his little sampling fork to poke at a light green colored cake.  He read the little card in front of the cake and scoffed, "Green tea?  Why on Earth would you make a cake that tasted like tea?"

 

He took a bite nonetheless and scowled at it.  

 

Natasha laughed in response to his expression.

 

Steve forgot about tasting cake as he nearly wore out his eyeballs staring between Bucky and Natasha.  He was clearly concerned, but also a little anxious.  Like he was waiting for something to happen.  He seemed confident that something would happen.  Darcy, on the other hand, received her entire eight inch lemon cake and dug in with her tiny fork, even as she practically sat in Natasha's lap like an affectionate cat.  

 

The youngest of their quartet was frowning between bites of cake, and her body language screamed protectiveness.  And since she was sitting right on Natasha's lap, it seemed that she was protecting the Black Widow.  From what, Bucky couldn't say.

 

"I like one with the chocolatey stuff in it," Steve remarked, taking a forkful of the vanilla cake with the dark and fluffy looking filling.  He scooted on the couch to get closer to Darcy and Natasha, holding it out for Darcy to taste.

 

She stopped her shoveling of the lemon cake for a moment, albeit reluctantly.  She didn't get out of Natasha's lap at all, instead forcing Steve closer.  Natasha laughed at that too, and Bucky had to admit, that the redhead had a lovely laugh.  It was warm and rich and real.  While he liked Steve's belly laughs, or Darcy's snorts and giggles, even Sam's wheezing chortles, he had to admit that he always looked forward to hearing Natasha's laugh.

 

It seemed like a secret that he kind of already knew.

 

"I love you," Natasha laughed at Darcy as she inched away from Steve's fork, playing a slow game of keep away, clearly not wanting to eat any other cake than the one she had long ago decided upon.  Steve finally got the cake past Darcy's open lips though and he grinned in triumph.

 

A stabbing pain hit the back of Bucky's skull and he would have drawn their attention at having nearly bent in half in response to it, but Darcy took that moment to gag on the cake in her mouth, her entire pale complexion turning green.

 

"Oh hell," Steve breathed out before jumping up and over the table they were sat in front of, grabbing Darcy right out of Natasha's arms and running for the bathroom at breakneck speed.

 

Natasha furrowed her brow and went for the fork Darcy had dropped on the platter, picking it up and smelling it with a concerned expression.  The look melted into one of annoyance and she put the fork back down.

 

"Nutella, I saw her turn green two days ago when Sam was eating it out of the jar with his fingers.  Steve should have--"

 

Her words were abruptly stopped when she looked to Bucky to see him with his head in his hands, bent at the waist and nearly folded in half.  

 

"Remembered," she whispered.  She swallowed and opened her mouth to speak, only to think better of it.  "Are you alright, James?"

 

He snapped up at that.  The last year, she had never called him by his Christian name, only Barnes.  Barking the name in that no nonsense way of hers on the battlefield or the practice field or the dance field.  He looked at her, his eyes cloudy, his brow furrowed with the pain ripping through his brain.

 

"Nat---" he paused and his gaze drifted off of her own for two full seconds before darting back to her.  "Natalia."

 

She remained silent, her mouth closed, her breathing purposely slowed to the point that it looked almost like she wasn't breathing at all.  She looked like she was a horse about to spook, ready to bolt at a moment's notice.

 

"Princess Shuri and the Wakandans---they---they fixed the memories," Bucky whispered.  "And everything had been there after a few days of really advanced therapy and really painful headaches.  They said it was all there."

 

Natasha swallowed as if it was painful to do before giving a very short nod.

 

"Your perfume," he whispered.

 

"I've worn it since 1956.  Got it in Hong Kong," Natasha answered calmly, despite the fact that her green eyes looked like a tornado and a hurricane all at once.  

 

"Gives me a headache," Bucky's voice was a soft thing, low and rumbling and soft.  He squinted at her discerningly and asked, "Natasha---Natalia?"

 

"Depends," she shrugged mysteriously.

 

"Did I---did we?" Bucky shook his head in disbelief.  "I should remember you.  Shouldn't I?"

 

She nodded very slightly and slowly.

 

"Why can't I?"  came Bucky's response.  "The Wakandans should have given it back to me."

 

"I wanted---it's..." the Black Widow was at a loss for words for the first time in a long time.  "It was important to me that you remembered naturally."

 

"Hurts," Bucky admitted.

 

"I’m sorry," Natasha apologized.  Steve and Darcy walked out of the bakery bathroom then, Darcy going straight back to Natasha and wrapping her arms around the older woman's midsection.  Natasha took the time to wipe at the tears clinging to the corners of her eyes.  "Would you like to rest, little one?"

 

Darcy nodded against Natasha's shoulder.  Natasha looked up to Steve and gave him a slightly desperate smile.  To his credit, Steve looked between Bucky and the women and read the situation pretty quickly.  He put his hands in his pockets and nodded, clearly reluctant, but committed nonetheless to whatever Natasha wanted.

 

"Bucky and I'll stay here, test out the rest of the layers and pick some out," Steve offered.  

 

"No Nutella, I don't care if it makes Sam sad," Darcy mumbled.

 

"No Nutella, sweetheart," Steve promised, picking her up again and placing a gentle kiss on her lips.  "I love you so much."

 

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Darcy muttered before going liquid in his embrace.  "I love you too."

 

Natasha stood and extracted Darcy from Steve, intent on taking her back to the little house that the future Lewis-Rogers were inhabiting on the facility grounds.  She took one last little look at Bucky, who was staring at her intently, looking at her like she was the answer to every question he ever had.  

 

"Come on pal, get to eating," Steve encouraged, stuffing his face with cake in order to keep himself from talking.

 

"Stevie?" Bucky questioned.

 

"Hmmm," Steve answered around a mouth of coffee flavored cake with salted caramel filling.

 

"I'm going to need to see those records that I said I never wanted to look at."

 

* * *

 

**[Russia, 1963](https://youtu.be/iuZTk1hdpMs)**

 

The process of being frozen was surprisingly like falling asleep after a stiff drink.  Not that Natalia would ever be able to experience that again.  Her enhancements had been gifted to her and to everyone's great delight it had not killed her.  Her metabolism ran nearly as fast as the Winter Soldier's, although she did not have the same strength.  She excelled in other ways though, her ability to interrogate somehow being enhanced.  

 

James had been taken away during the worst of the testing on her newly enhanced body.  Stuffed into a cryo tube as the Soviets and Hydra feared the worst was to come during the Cold War was a secondary reason.  The handlers of the Red Room had witnessed what the Winter Soldier would do if his favorite Widow was harmed in any way that was not earned in combat.  

 

They couldn't afford to allow the man to strangle the life out of more lab techs that would slash and break the Widow to see how fast she healed.  So he was put in a deep, cold sleep while the Russians played with their new toy.  And it wasn't long before they realized the greatest Black Widow that had ever been created would also be safer in the cold sleep.

 

Natalia had not minded the prospect of a cold sleep.  If James was sleeping in the cold, then it felt right for her to be sleeping as well.  They could wake together and be useful to the cause once more.

 

She looked around at the laboratory she had woken up in, all aching, stinging muscles and shivering skin as her body worked double time to warm up after being cold for so long.  She tried to ascertain how long she was down for, but could not manage it, everything looked as it had before.

 

There was a song playing on a wireless radio at the desk of the lab tech that she didn't recognize, but it was a beautiful, soulful song, and she felt a warmth in the pit of her stomach at it.

 

"Five years," the small statured, young lab tech said softly to her as he quickly drew blood from her arm.  He handed her a blanket then and nodded as she used it to cover up her bareness right away.

 

"Is there a mission?" she asked quietly.

 

"A big one, along with the Soldier," the tech managed a smile at her, and for a second his unremarkable face looked friendly and handsome.  

 

She narrowed her eyes and recognized the little man, or almost did.  She remembered another man who looked like this man from many years ago.  From her childhood, giving her an extra ladleful of broth on cold days. But that man had been very old and had not made it to Natalia's adulthood.  

 

"Sokolov?" she whispered the name of the old, kind caretaker.

 

"His son," the tech answered, shaking his head in disbelief.  "That's not possible, that would have been erased from you long ago."

 

He scratched a few quick notes in a notebook and shook his head again.  "The serum may never be as good as Erskine's but it is impressive."

 

Any further ruminations about the efficacy of the Russian serum were cut off as the walls rattled with what might have been a small explosion.  The younger Sokolov stood up immediately and ran to the corner, making himself very small.  

 

"Where is she?!" the scream could be heard from the other room.  

 

"The Soldier," Sokolov explained quickly.  "They tried to bring him out six months ago, and it did not go well.  Your sleep was cut short to accommodate him until behavioral modifications can be found that will stick."

 

Natalia frowned at that, not wanting to know how they would get behavioral modifications to stick on a man who healed faster than she did.  Her memories that had been burned out of her through pain and torture were coming back after one recuperative cycle in cryo-sleep.  The door to the laboratory collapsed in on itself thanks to one powerful metal fist and suddenly James was on the other side, his anger sliding from him at the sight of her.

 

"You alright, Red?" he questioned, the screaming monster gone, the charmer firmly in place.

 

"Cold," Natalia admitted.  Her eyes slid to Sokolov, who was hiding, but also still scribbling notes.  James was next to her in the time it took to take half a breath, sharing the bench she had woken up on and pressing hands to her cheeks as he stared down at her in wonderment.

 

She knew that they would figure out a way.  They had turned a blind eye when the dalliance began, thinking that Natalia could be used as leverage against the Soldier when needed.  And when Natalia had become too important and powerful to be used as a doll to torture in front of the Soldier, they had allowed the continued liaison because the end result of their work together was too good to let go of.  But Hydra and the Red Room would find a way to make their greatest weapons pliant to their will, no matter how much it hurt.  But for now, they needed them to finish a job.  And in order for that to happen, James and Natalia would be given their small spots of happiness.

 

"Dreamt about you," James whispered so low that no other ears but hers could hear it.

 

She was willing to take it.

 

* * *

 

**[Present day*](https://youtu.be/mshV7ug8cdE)*

 

The Valentine's Day Wedding turned into a New Year's Eve Wedding sometime around Thanksgiving.  Bucky realized why when Darcy had vomited on his shoes when he had offered her a taste of the stuffing he and Steve had cobbled together out of nearly nothing.  Apparently, only he and Natasha and probably Thor knew that the wedding had been moved up because Darcy wanted to be able to fit into her dress.  

 

Steve was walking on air, and despite the fact that they were supposed to be teaching Darcy how to do a slow fox trot for their first dance as Mister and Missus, he was currently only barely moving in a gentle sway as he held his future bride and mother of his unborn child in a tight embrace.  Darcy didn't seem to be complaining either, standing right on top of Steve's feet with her bare ones as she clung to him with a blissful smile on her face.

 

"Do people still try and lie about the baby being early?" Bucky wondered as Natasha switched the record expertly.

 

"Not really," Natasha answered.  "There are some people who wait until the baby is born, and then get married."

 

"That'd be terrifyingly adorable---a newborn in a tux," Bucky huffed out a laugh.

 

"Or in a miniature flower girl dress," Natasha said sternly.  She stood in front of Bucky as the song began and her arms automatically went up to be held.

 

Bucky resigned himself to the headache as he took her in his arms and immediately began moving around the dance floor that Steve and Darcy refused to utilize properly.  The smell of lemons and jasmine, the feel of her in his arms, even the steps of the dance were like icepicks in his brain, shattering something long dead and gone and forcing it into glaring brightness.

 

"When I woke up this morning, I was angry," Bucky said with easy nonchalance.

 

"I'm usually angry when I wake up," Natasha shrugged slightly, but didn't break the hold of the dance.  "Unless there are pancakes."

 

Bucky smirked down at the woman and shook his head.  "Felt like something was missing this morning."

 

"Pancakes?" Natasha guessed, the ghost of a playful smirk on her face.

 

"Smartass," Bucky rolled his eyes.  He cleared his throat as he spun her out and then back in, even though the choreography hadn't called for it.  The door to Natasha's private dance room closed and Bucky turned with an impressed look on his face, because Steve and Darcy had managed to creep out of the room nearly undetected.  He continued to lead Natasha through the easy steps, the movements feeling like ghosts of something they had done before.

 

"Have you been feeling like that most mornings?" Natasha pondered. "Like you're missing pancakes?"

 

"Nine times out of ten, and the off time I wake up in so much pain I can't think straight," Bucky acknowledged.

 

"Sorry."

 

The apology was a whisper, barely heard.

 

"You weren't the one that decided to zap my brains so hard that the only thing left was a murder machine who could speak eight different languages," Bucky said with surprising pleasantness.  "You're just a mystery of a dame, who knows what move I'm going to make before I move it whether it be on the dance floor or in hand to hand combat.  I was loaned out to the Russians..."

 

"Yes, you were," Natasha agreed, knowing that Steve had given him everything they had been able to reconstruct on Bucky's file, with a few key pieces of information missing.

 

"Only they didn't take the best notes about the damn near two decades I spent under their hospitality," Bucky frowned.  "Just a really expert manual on the best ways to zap the memories that would come back every time I healed."

 

"We Russians are known for being succinct," Natasha attempted a joke.

 

"It's coming back though," Bucky said resolutely, before Natasha could broker a change of subject.  "It's coming back.  And it hurts.  But I want it to come back.  They took you from me, and I want you back.  And I understand why you'd want it to come about naturally, or as naturally as it gets with us.  I want that too."

 

"Good," Natasha nodded.

 

"Red---Natalia," Bucky stopped dancing and placed both of his hands on her cheeks, tracing the smooth line of her jaw with reverent fingertips.  "Did they take me from you too?"

 

Natasha gave a barely perceptible shake of her head in the negative.  Bucky looked even more pained at that before he leaned forward and placed a soft, tentative kiss on her lips.  Natasha was only human, no matter how much the Red Room had tried to burn it out of her, and she found her head tilting in and her lips opening so that she could press and pull against his mouth.

 

Bucky felt a thrill go through him, he'd kissed his fair share of ladies, a few gents, (and just that one pig as a result of a bad dare from Falsworth) but nothing could compare with the way Natalia kissed.  Smooth and searching, pulling at his guts in the most pleasant way.  He winced at the pain in his head and Natalia pulled away from him slowly, staring up at him in concern.

 

"S'nothing, just a little pain.  Well earned," Bucky promised.    He didn't give an inch in his tender hold on her, refusing to let her ease off and give him some time to recuperate before the rush of memory could be too much.  She'd been doing far too much of that over the years, being strong while the memories that should be shared were only there to torture her.

 

"You can be the Widow to the world, but you're my Natalia.  My Red."

 

* * *

 

**[Russia, 1965](https://youtu.be/A0LY2JSMdwE)** 

 

"Who were you before?"

 

"Can't remember," James murmured his answer into Natalia's hair as they lay in bed, their mission complete, they had returned to the only home they had known in the past years at the Red Room.  The pattern of the last two years had been comforting in their repetitiveness.  They went out on missions, the both of them together, and they came back to the Red Room and to hell if the handlers didn't approve of where they slept at night.  

 

So long as they were doing what they were told in their missions, there could be no punishment.  James was a borrowed weapon and Natalia too valuable to harm in the disciplining of her.  They were loyal to the cause, or at least Natalia was.  James was loyal to Natalia and that was all that mattered.

 

"After the arm, I musta argued an awful lot.  Fought them tooth and nail when they weren't freezing me," James recounted, laying on his back with Natalia half laying on top of him, her head in the crook of his right shoulder.  The record player was softly warbling in the corner of the room, just enough noise to run interference just in case there was surveillance on.  "They needed a blank slate, so that's what they did."

 

"They did the same to me," Natalia whispered.  "When I was young.  I don't know what came before.  It won't come back no matter how hard I try to remember."

 

"When I think really hard on it, I remember a scrawny kid," James admitted, his voice a quiet, thoughtful thing.  "Must have been my best pal with how bright he is there in the memories."

 

"Not a lover?" Natalia ventured.

 

"Nah, not that time," James shook his head, overly long brown locks falling over his forehead.  Natalia gently brushed at the brown, heavy wave and let her hand rest on his forehead as she looked down at him.  "Never was too serious about the boys.  They were fun to play around with, but I don't think I could love something so stupid."

 

"Hmmm," Natalia answered back, leaning in for a kiss.  

 

"No one could ever hold a candle to you, my beautiful girl," James promised.  He pulled her closer and sighed, "Go to sleep, we have a mission debrief in the morning."

 

Their sated sleep was interrupted halfway through, when a sweet, cloying gas came through the vents.  Startled green eyes met blue and the terror between them was palpable.  They couldn't move, every muscle in their body seized as their lungs took in more and more of the gas.

 

Natalia couldn't even scream as Hydra handlers came into the room, not KGB, not Red Room.  Not one of her many well trained muscles could twitch as a wooden James was drug off the bed by a few well armed men.  She could do nothing as she was lifted like a rag doll and carried off in James' wake, following down a hall, but not going into the laboratory that he was drug into.

 

She was placed in a chair and strapped down with something stronger than metal.  A mask was fitted over her face, the air sweet, but not as heavy and cloying as it had been in their bedroom.  Just enough to keep her from being able to fight back, but not enough to stop the tears that leaked from her eyes.

 

"You realize the error of your ways, don't you?" a man asked congenially as he stepped inside.  He was tall and blond and American, younger than the age that Natalia and James had been frozen at forever.  The American Hydra member chuckled to himself and shook his head as he wiped at one of Natalia's tears that were seeping down the side of her face.  "Whores usually don't understand their errors, though.  Russian whores are especially soft and stupid, I find."

 

Natalia tried not to pay attention to the blond American who was speaking to her, instead focusing on the other room, the lab that James had been taken to behind the two way mirror.  He was now wearing some kind of heavy draped fabric over his body, focusing on covering the left arm that was being strapped down with multiple rings of metal.  The chair reclined slightly after a lab tech hit him with another dose of the gas that was keeping him compliant and motionless.  

 

His eyes were the only thing moving, and he was staring at the glass of the mirror he was facing, as if he were trying to look straight through it and find her.

 

The young Sokolov rolled a piece of machinery in place, a large metal ring and adjusted it so that it hovered around James' head.  

 

"Your countryman figured it out, we can wipe him and still leave the important parts," the American Hydra revealed with a brilliant, even smile.  "Care to take a guess on whether you would be important or not?"

 

Natalia huffed out a breath and then tried to hold her breath for as long as possible to escape the gas and regain enough of her motion to be able to break the restraints and shatter the man's skull in front of her.

 

"Calm down, Widow," the blond waved her off.  "You'll have your turn in the chair.  But first, I want you to watch every thought of you be painfully scraped from his brain."

 

Natalia stopped looking at James long enough to glare at the man who was greedily watching as the machine was powered up.  He nodded and his voice was a predatory, silken low tremble, "It will be painful, my dear.  Don't worry about that."

 

James screamed and his entire body convulsed in the chair, nearly breaking his restraints.  More tears gathered in Natalia's eyes as she watched him, unblinking.  He was writhing with the pain as electricity worked from the ring of the machine into his skull, it never stopped and James' pain continued for countless minutes.  

 

"Please," Natalia whispered.

 

"Stronger gas for the whore," the blond advised someone out of sight.  He glared down at the infamous Black Widow and promised, "You will be wiped and go back on ice until the Russians are competent enough to wield you again.  Your idiot Soldier will be coming back to the States with me and will continue to work for Hydra's glory until he is no longer of use to me."

 

James' torment ended and his entire body went slack in the chair, his eyes blank as he stared at the mirror.

 

"And when he is no longer of use to me...he will be burned to the ground and buried and the Earth will be salted above him," the American Hydra advised.  He looked back to where Natalia couldn't see and advised, "Do me a favor?  Wipe her down except for the skill set."

 

Natalia took a more controlled breath at that.  

 

The blond's smile twisted into something sinister at her relief.

 

"Leave the Winter Soldier for her to think of.  Have her long for him and know that he will never be what he was.  He will never remember playing house with the Russian whore."

 

Natalia didn't feel the hands grabbing her out of her own chair, had not even realized they had let up on the restraints.  In the hall, as she was drug, a lifeless, limp thing, James was already on his feet, although he was not steady.  Handlers gripped him by the arms and led him out.

 

His blank blue eyes looked at her with nothing in them.

 

* * *

 

**Present day**

 

"You look beautiful, little one."

 

A normal person would know not to argue with Natasha Romanoff.  But Darcy had never checked a normal box on any form she had filled out in her entire life.  The empire waist of her wedding dress had been designed to hide her baby bump, because even at not quite three months, there was a bump.  Darcy blamed Steve's giant Irish head. And at the moment, she was sobbing as Natasha pulled curling rods out of the expectant bride's hair carefully before spritzing each perfect ringlet with spray.   

 

"Everyone is gonna know!" Darcy squeaked out pitifully.  

 

"So?" Natasha shrugged.

 

"Steve's reputation will be RUINED!" Darcy sobbed.

 

Bucky came running into the room, looking around nervously.  His eyes met Natasha's and most of the panic bled out, replaced only with warmth and familiarity and relief.  Natasha managed a soft smile at him before finishing the last of Darcy's curls and then kneeling to be at eye level with the girl.  She wiped at tears before putting both hands on the little ball of superbaby that Darcy was doing such a good job of nurturing.

 

"James?" Natasha asked.

 

"Yes, Natalia?" Bucky stepped forward.  

 

It had been coming back in painful glitches.  He was almost there.  He knew that for a stretch of nearly a decade on and off ice, Natalia had been his whole world.  He remembered more than he let on, in fact.  But now they were in a painful dance of whether love should be rekindled or simply acknowledged as they moved on.  Neither were willing to see if it still existed for fear that one would be there and not the other.

 

"Tell Darcy about Steve's reputation," Natasha encouraged.

 

"Well, Red, I dunno if I---" Bucky hesitated only to get a shrewd look from the redhead in response.  He nodded and went towards where the bride to be was seated, kneeling down on the other side of her.  His hand went over Darcy's bump, covering Natasha's fingertips.  

 

They and Sam were the only people allowed to touch the baby bump.  Thor had been forbidden when he had announced that the baby was a boy a week ago.  In front of a roomful of superheroes that weren't supposed to know that Darcy was pregnant.

 

"Stevie Rogers might have been a scrawny little thing before he got put into Howie's muscle oven, and sure, there were some girls that didn't like the looks of him, but lemme tell you kid, his reputation was non existent in 1942 Brooklyn," Bucky assured Darcy earnestly.  "Any historian worth their salt would have interviewed the girls he made time with from 1935 to 1942."

 

"He told Peggy he'd never danced with a girl before," Darcy disputed.  "Her interview with Barbara Walters in 1978 said that he couldn't talk to a girl."

 

"And he hadn't danced with a girl, cause he was behind the dance hall doing his earnest aw shucks thing and learning how to do that kissing thing that you like so much," Bucky smirked.  "And he didn't do much talkin' either, just drew 'em a pretty picture of them, hiding their flaws and accentuating the good parts, and suddenly he had a girl kissing him behind the dance hall."

 

Darcy sniffed and looked between Bucky and Natasha warily.

 

"He and I had sex for the first time after he gave me a pretty picture of me," she admitted.

 

"Kid's still got it," Bucky nodded.  "And now you're going to marry him and he can pull that game on you forever."

 

"Yeah," Darcy smiled.  

 

"And no one at this wedding is going to be surprised that he knocked you up before making it official," Bucky promised.  

 

"And anyone on the outside who dares to ridicule you for it will be dealt with," Natasha promised.  She leaned forward and kissed Darcy's cheek.  "You look beautiful."

 

"Thanks," Darcy took a deep breath and went to stand up.  "Now, I'm going to go and confront my husband to be about how he used old pick up tricks to trap me in his bed."

 

"Oh boy," Bucky laughed as Darcy marched off, bridal gown and all to give Steve a piece of her mind half an hour before the wedding.  He looked to Natasha and pointed at her, "This is all you Red.  This ain't me.  You're not pinning this on me."

 

"I'll take the blame.  I have a few get out of jail free cards with Rogers," Natasha promised. She brushed at Bucky's shoulders and the straightened out the lapel of his tuxedo jacket.  "You look very handsome."

 

"Yeah?" Bucky smiled.  "As handsome as I looked when we did that thing in Rio de Janeiro?"

 

"You didn't tell me you remembered that," Natasha narrowed her eyes at him.  

 

"Well I could text you every time I remember something, but that's going to be a lot of texts," Bucky shrugged.  "We had a lot of fun amidst all the murder and intrigue and communism."

 

Natasha couldn't help but laugh and shrugged.  "We did, actually."

 

Bucky's phone began buzzing and he sighed.  "That'll be Steve, wanting to throw me off another train."

 

"There are worse fates," Natasha said with complete seriousness.

 

"Yeah.  Could be.  Save me a dance?"  Bucky asked hopefully before leaning in and placing a gentle kiss on her lips.

 

"Which one?"  Natasha murmured against his mouth.

 

"All of them."

* * *

 

**[Odessa 2007](https://youtu.be/Tiw4YYaogcE)**

 

Natalia had been kept in cryo for a very long time as Russia fell to pieces.  When she woke again, her only goal was to get away from the people who had taken James away from her.

 

And she managed it, with the help of Clint Barton and then Nick Fury.  

 

She had red in her ledger.  This was why James was taken from her.  She had been devoted to her country's cause.  James had only been devoted to her, and now they were both paying the price.

 

The radio was still playing from the humvee that was flipped over, the engineer had insisted on music, so Natasha had left him to his devices. Now the engineer was barely conscious and she had to wait for the quinjet to provide extraction.

 

She didn't understand how she would manage it, especially since whoever had blown their car off the road was still out there, ready to put a bullet through both of their skulls.

 

This didn't normally happen to her.  Her track record of nearly flawless missions with SHIELD had been impressive.  It was like the assassin meant to kill the scientist knew what Natasha had been thinking before she could think it.

 

"Pickup in fifteen, Nat.  Hang tight."

 

A shadow  in the distance caught her eye, a sniper's nest from high above.  

 

The flash of metal.

 

The crack of a gunshot.

 

The scientist was dead as the bullet went right through her.

 

She moved and felt the pain in her abdomen and grunted as she went for her satellite phone.

 

"Five point eight point six,--I need a bogey there, now," Natasha demanded.

 

Her lip quivered, but not from the pain of her wound.  She looked into the distance and inherently knew that there was only one person that had ever lived that would be capable of taking such a shot.  

 

She didn't know if he had spared her because he remembered, or if it was because she hadn't been apart of the mission parameters.  

 

Either way...she didn't want to know.

 

* * *

 

**[Present Day](https://youtu.be/1tXUxVWtyaU)** 

 

When all was said and done, Darcy and Steve were happily married and their first dance had been one fancy turn, two aborted steps before Steve had thrown in the towel and held her close and tight as they swayed just barely, whispering things to each other and beaming so much happiness and love that it didn't quite seem fair for the rest of the world.

 

Bucky had watched the whole thing with pride in his heart.  Steve had suffered a long time, been tortured with the what if's and could have been's and the guilt that only a survivor could carry.  He deserved every square inch of happiness that he could grab on to.  

 

"No offense, but if your dumb best friend does something to ever pull that smile off of her face, I will have to kill him."

 

Bucky smirked at the smell of lemon and jasmine and turned to look down at Natasha, who had the smallest, most playful smile pulling at the corner of her lips.  They both knew that the chances Steve would ever willfully hurt Darcy were slim to none.  

 

The music switched very quickly from the sweet love ballad to a very energetic song, something that sounded a little old, but was definitely new.  Darcy let out a whoop of laughter as Steve lifted her up and off her foot and swung her in a slow circle.  

 

Natasha put her hand in Bucky's and looked up to him with an arched eyebrow.

 

"It's different, Red," Bucky whispered.  "I want what we had, that trust.  The love.  But we're both different now.  I don't want to disappoint you."

 

"Hmm, not likely.  But I know how you feel," Natasha agreed.  "We can both be Darcy's something old and something new."

 

And it was true, because she was Natalia, _his_ Natalia, but there had been decades where she had carved out this new existence as Natasha.  And he was James, her Winter Soldier, but he was Bucky too and was bringing decades of memories that had not been there the first time their romance had bloomed.

 

But to hell if he didn't want whatever they could build now.  He wanted it more than anything.  

 

He spun her onto the dance floor, before pulling her back quick and going through the steps effortlessly.  His eyes left her only once, to give Wilson a challenging, sassy little look.  

 

"Let's do this, Red.  But you're going to have to help me with the Thriler dance later."

 

* * *

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Song list:  
> Beyonce - "Crazy In Love"  
> Bing Crosby - "La Vie En Rose"  
> Ella Fitzgerald - "What Are You Doing New Year's Eve?"  
> Solomon Burke - "Cry to me"  
> Little Richard - "Long Tall Sally"  
> Patsy Cline - "I Fall to Pieces"  
> Ella Fitzgerald - "These Foolish Things (Remind Me of You)"  
> Dean Martin-"I Will"  
> Fall out Boy - "Thnks fr th Mmrs"  
> Michael Buble "Save the Last Dance for Me"
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!!! Happy New Year!!!!


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